A Gift From The Gods
by Laura Schiller
Summary: How did Tuya convince Seti to adopt a Hebrew baby after what he'd ordered done to all the others?


A Gift From The Gods

By Laura Schiller

Based on: The Prince of Egypt

Copyright: Dreamworks Pictures/Bible

The baby in the reed basket was the most miraculous thing Tuya had ever seen.

He cooed at her, blinked his wide black eyes, and reached for his own toe as if to say, _Look what I can do!_, as if he had no idea of how fragile his conveyance down the river had been. How easily he could have been drowned, eaten by crocodiles, or killed by human soldiers like so many of his kind today. Tuya knew her husband's orders, though she had found out too late to stop them. That was why she had withdrawn to this cool, clean, quiet spot by the river, where the only sounds were water against marble, the voices of her ladies-in-waiting and the cheerful chatter of little Rameses. Here, the screaming from the slave quarters could not be heard.

Tuya heard it anyway.

The moment she set eyes on this child, sent away with such extraordinary faith and courage, she knew what she must do. She had only to convince her husband.

/

"What is this?"

Pharaoh Seti's powerful voice cut the air as he saw what Tuya carried in her arms.

"He arrived in a basket along the river, my lord," she replied evenly. "His parents must have set him adrift to save him." _From your soldiers, _she did not add. From the frown that crossed her husband's face, however, she could see he knew what he meant.

He snapped his fingers. The two guards standing on either side of the doors snapped to attention. "Take that child away," he ordered. "Deal with it like the others."

Blank-faced, trained not to reveal their emotions, the young men approahed. The ladies-in-waiting, less stoic, huddled together anxiously. Tuya glanced down at the baby, then at Rameses, clinging to her skirt and watching them with wide, uncomprehending eyes. What kind of scene would her son, who had only just learned to walk, have to witness here?

"_No."_

Tuya's voice was not loud, but like her husband, she had learned to make it ring with power. The guards stopped in their tracks.

Seti's dark eyes flashed. She had never defied him in front of witnesses before. Knowing the cause of his anger, she gestured to one of her ladies and spoke again in gentler tones. "Take the Prince to the nursery. The rest of you may leave."

The lady bowed, picked up Rameses, and held him up for his mother to kiss him on the forehead. Then she and her companions glided through the doors in a rustle of gowns and whispers, and the guards retreated to take their posts outside, leaving the royal couple – and the baby – in privacy.

She never ceased to find it remarkable, the change that came over him when they were alone together. He slipped off his headdress and false beard, tossed them aside, and rubbed his forehead as if to ease the pressure of the heavy ornament. Was it her imagination, or were there lines of pain carved in his face that had not been there yesterday?

"When I give an order, I cannot make exceptions," he said tiredly, without meeting her eyes. "My word is the law of Egypt. If I break my word, even out of kindness, what justice would there be left? You should understand that."

"You should have thought of that before you gave an order like this."

"What I did was necessary." He stared past her at the open space between the columns, where his city lay spread out like a mosaic. Statues of the gods, of his ancestors, loomed magnificently above the homes of the living, watching. Judging.

"What you did was cruel," said Tuya.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Seti snapped, swinging around to glare at her. His remorse crackled in the air like a lightning storm, a fury with himself, redirected outwards so that it would not destroy him from the inside. "Do you think I enjoy having the blood of children on my hands? But I ask you, my lady, how would you have felt if it were _our _son's blood on the hands of rebellious slaves?"

The image was so horrible that Tuya swayed on her feet. The baby squealed in protest, and she realized she was holding him too tightly, as if to protect him from the horrors of the world he had been born into. If only it were that easy.

"You knew about the riots in the streets, the murdered overseers, the threats and the demands. Something had to be done."

The worst of it was that part of her _did _understand. Egypt depended on the labor of its slaves. Giving them all a fair wage would make enemies of their wealthy owners, wreak havoc on the economy, and change the entire structure of their society in a way that Seti was simply not ready to contemplate. He was a traditional man. He had to be; tradition was the very source and backbone of his power. What was he, if not the Morning and Evening Star?

Just a man. The stubborn, loyal, narrow-minded, pious, ruthless, loving man she had married. That was enough for her, but it would never be enough for him.

She touched his arm, as she had done ever since they were children, knowing her touch could soothe his troubled soul as nothing else could.

"I know, my love. I know. But have you considered that, perhaps, this child was sent by the gods?"

"What gives you that idea?"

Seti looked down at the small bundle quizzically, searching for some sign of divine evidence and finding nothing.

"He survived against impossible odds," said Tuya. "And the great Nile, bringer of life, delivered him to me of all people, today of all days. Can you imagine how his mother and father must have felt, taking such a risk to save his life? If it were our son," turning his own argument against him, "Would you not pray with all your heart for him to be safe and cared for? He is a sign, my love. I feel it."

"If he is a sign," Seti's voice lowered to a hush as he reached out to touch the baby's cheek, "What do you suppose he signifies?"

There was a look in the depths of his black eyes, almost a pleading look, that told her just what he was hoping for, though he would never say it out loud. Remorse would be gnawing at him for the rest of his life, she knew, and possibly in the next life as well. It was too late to undo what had been done, but somehow he would have bear the burden.

And perhaps, she thought in the depths of her heart, perhaps raising one Hebrew child as his own would lead him to feel compassion for all the others. Perhaps the open wounds at the heart of their country might yet begin to heal. It was unlikely, but stranger things had happed.

"Hope," she said.

Seti closed his eyes, sighed as if a load of bricks had just slid from his shoulders, and held out his arms. Gently, lovingly, Tuya placed her small charge into them.

The baby batted his eyelashes, smiling with innocent trust. Despite himself, the formidable ruler smiled back a little in return.


End file.
